Freedom by Pat Garcia
Freedom by Pat Garcia
A strange word,
FREEDOM.
It beguiles,
Deludes,
Misleads,
Encourages,
Separates,
Divides,
Unites,
And
Heals.
—
In a world where acceptance rules,
FREEDOM dwells;
Understanding flourishes;
Toleration becomes a border;
Delusions vanish;
Community evolves.
—
Freedom walks,
In a world where acceptance rules,
And fear dissipates.
Freedom speaks out,
People listen and dance to their own beat
In Unity,
Which encourages,
And community evolves.
—
Freedom loves,
In a world where acceptance rules,
Without chains,
But demands consequences,
Responsibility,
Commitment,
Dedication,
Loyalty,
Trust,
Reliability,
And faithfulness.
—
When freedom exists,
Prejudices take flight,
Respect marches in,
The Creation breathes easier,
The Spirit, the tiny funk deposited in us surfaces,
And fences come down,
Communication erupts like Mount Etna,
Wars cease,
Children no longer die young,
Women dance in the streets,
Men rise above their differences,
And Community evolves.
—
Until October 14th, be safe.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia
Work, A Poem by Pat Garcia
WORK
The day ends.
Work is undone,
Not yet finished,
It looms in the background,
Waiting.
Another day begins.
Work is undone,
No longer looming,
But pressing,
Demanding attention.
Oh, the joy work fulfills or robs,
The disappointment it brings,
When overtime must be done,
And work becomes the victor that kills love,
That has turned bittersweet.
—
Be safe this weekend.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia
Missing by Pat Garcia
Some things get lost.
Some simply misplaced.
Some disappear into thin air,
Only to reappear at the yard sale,
Where items collected have been brought,
And the number of years,
Spent in one city,
One house,
One family,
Become a fading nostalgic memory of what used to be.
Missing objects sometimes suddenly reappear,
As the last breath of a life reigns us in.
Making us see the futility of our hoarding,
Our grasping for what we cannot take with us.
Missing objects cry out,
Lost but now found,
And take center stage at the yard sale.
They move into the house of another,
Or land on a huge pile at the waste disposal,
Waiting for the grinder, as we wait for the reaper.
***
Wishing everyone a nice weekend.
Be safe.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia
My Heart Weeps
Hello Everyone,
It feels good to be back. I have not posted anything from myself on my Walk On Blog in ages, and it is about time that I started posting again.Once a month, I will feature women we have forgotten about as I have done in the past on this blog and also share some of my poetry.
Today, a revised version of a poem I released on Esther Newton’s Blog for one of her Weekly Writing Challenges.
Politics by Pat Garcia
My heart weeps.
Years filled with murder.
Women, children,
Old, young, dying,
My heart weeps.
Freedom, the way to live,
Dictators wanted,
Greed unquieted,
Power boosted,
Suppression of others routine,
And my heart weeps.
The best way, my way,
The right way, only my way,
People seen as dogs, infidels,
Breathing air, their air,
And my heart weeps.
Down through the Ages,
Past and now present,
The spirit of confusion, hatred, and death arises.
Turning men into war mongers,
Nations into furnaces,
Knives kill,
Like arrows diving pointedly into the soul,
Guns shoot,
Bombs explode,
Men, women, children die,
And my heart weeps.
Politics play,
Leaders encouraging each other,
As blood spills and soaks the ground,
The pavement,
The floor,
And my heart weeps.
Autonomy?
Monarchy?
Communism?
Socialism?
Democracy, what?
Socio-Marxism?
Dictator, ah what?
Strange bedfellows,
Do they understand?
People sent out to kill,
My heart weeps,
Listening has disappeared,
Only the cry of death can be heard,
As the politicians play the games called politics.
I’m calling you Wisdom,
Cause my heart weeps.
No one has ears to hear,
Eyes to see,
Blinded by their own greed, ambition.
They say my way is the best way,
And my heart weeps.
Shall I run,
Shall I stand,
Shall I proclaim how unique; how irreplaceable life really is?
Does no one see,
Does no one hear the wailing,
Of the child
The woman,
The man,
Oh, my heart weeps.
Yes, they sit there,
The politicians
Playing politics like a game of chess.
The men,
The women in the cabinets of this world,
Chic, but unwise,
Applauding their elite status yet knowing nothing,
And my heart weeps.
The stupidity of politics,
It scrounges, purges, and devours,
As it wipes out resistance,
As it desecrates the human spirit,
And my heart weeps.
Wishing all of you a safe weekend.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia
Especially for Writers
Hello Everyone,
For all writers, inspiration from quotes posted on the website of 777 Peppermint Place.
Have a great week.
Shalom aleichem,
Patricia
Especially for Writers
For all of the writers pondering over the feasibility of writing, here are some words of encouragement from 777 Peppermint Place.
Have a great week.
Shalom,
Patricia
A Somewhat Other Mother’s Day by Pat Garcia
Two Thousand One,
War on Planet Earth began,
Step by step,
Country by country,
From east to west,
And north to south,
Culture fighting culture,
Tradition struggling tradition,
Religion prodding religion,
Race killing race,
Nationality prevaricating nationality,
Men predating women,
Power strangling,
Dictators glorified,
Women pained,
Children borne,
Bombs blasted in the air,
People died.
Two Thousand Three
Victory proclaimed!
Yet,
Guns still heard,
Human bombs exploded,
Culture against culture,
Tradition against tradition,
Religion against religion,
Race against race
Nationality against nationality.
Supermen appeared,
No one understood them,
People died.
Two Thousand Eleven,
War continued to spread,
From east to west,
And north to south.
Talks began,
Discussions faltered,
Chemicals perfumed the air,
Children gasped and suffocated,
Women mourned,
Hands wrung in despair,
The helpless shut their eyes
As they entered eternity.
People died.
Two Thousand Fourteen,
Planet Earth restless,
Country by country,
From east to west,
And north to south.
Culture fighting culture,
Tradition struggling tradition,
Religion prodding religion,
Race killing race,
Nationality prevaricating nationality,
Dissension deepened,
Hatred increased,
Guns sounded out,
Human bombs exploded,
Bombs burst in the air,
People died.
Two Thousand Fifteen,
Human carcasses covered Planet Earth.
The ocean’s mouth opened wide,
Welcoming the feed, it received from above.
Nature blossomed; bodies fertilized its soil.
People talked,
Negotiations stalled,
Guns shot,
Human bombs exploded,
Bombs from planes killed,
As dilapidated boats on the sea transported people to their graves,
People died.
What is this disease?
That prevents us from seeing,
From hearing,
From feeling.
Grace extinct?
Mercy obsolete?
Compassion passé?
Two Thousand Sixteen,
May eighth,
Women force into prostitution,
Babies fish out of the sea,
Bombs from planes kill,
Human bombs explode,
Refugees on the run,
Barbwire fences rise,
Soldiers protect borders,
Men talk,
Governments negotiate,
People die,
And well we…
We celebrate Mother’s Day.
Shalom Aleichem,
Pat Garcia
Viewpoint: Precedent Historical Repetition
History is repeating itself. The age of Humanism is slowly marching off the world stage, but what comes next? Precedent historical repetition says that sooner or later another nation will rise. After all, the human race has lived through the rise and fall of many great nations. History is repeating itself.
The situation among the cultures is precarious. The Iron Curtain is slowly rising out of its sleep and finding its home among nations that want to protect their economy and the pure ethnicity of their race. Cultural diversity is leaving the stage. History is repeating itself.
The rudimentary ordinances of nature are being disobeyed. What was once one plus one equals two is now one plus one equals whatever makes you feel good. History is repeating itself.
Over one million people are on the run. The number of people who have died so far on the ground, in airplanes, in the seas is heartbreaking. Men talked, yet children cry, children die, women cry, women die. History is repeating itself.
In every corner of the world, there is tumult. Philosophical antagonism demands closed borders. An antagonism based on supremacy, it has plummeted us even nearer to a world war. It enacts to dominate, to make all men and women think alike. This antagonism has no mercy, no understanding, and no love. History is repeating itself.
“What are you doing, Child?” The Prophet asked.
“Watching the New Year come in over the earth.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“No, it’s not nice Prophet. It’s sad.”
“Why, Child. What do you see?”
“In every corner, I see children starving, women crying, human life wasted. Prophet, don’t people ever read about the past?”
“No, Child. That’s why History repeats itself.”
Happy New Year Everyone,
Alles Gute Zum Neuen Jahr Alle,
Bonne Nouvelle Pour Tout Le Monde,
Feliz Nuevo A Todo El Mundo,
Felice Nuovo Per Tutti,
L’Shana Tova,
Shalom Aleichem,
Pat Garcia
Viewpoint: Friday, Thirteen November 2015
A Civil War founded upon religious beliefs and how people should live has spread itself to the European Continent. What happened in Paris, France, was a battle, and an act of war carried out by the Islamic State. That we refused to take the declaration of war seriously in 2014 has resulted in the mass, willful, killing of innocent people, which took place on Friday, the thirteenth of November.
Religion, which oppresses, is like a dictatorship suppressing the inalienable rights of each individual who lives under its umbrella. Unfortunately, these inalienable rights, known as life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are also echoed by these totalitarian societies, but they are interpreted differently, and the cultural upbringing displays a life we people in the West are not accustomed to––freedom and individual development find itself caught on the blind side of life.
Hopefully, revelation has broken through the thick skull of false reality we have let descend upon us, and our eyes have been opened to see that not everyone think as we think, act as we act, and desire to live as we live. If this were true, the Islamic State would not exist.
Unfortunately, this clarity is too late for those people who lost their lives in Paris, France on that dreadful evening.
Viva la France!
Shalom,
Pat Garcia
Monday Funnies with AUNTY ACID…
Morning Everyone,
Aunty Acid is at it again. I love her wisdom on dealing with the obstacles of life, especially when you’re thrown a curve ball. So whatever life throws at you today, duck so it hits someone else. You don’t have to stand there and take it. You don’t have to start your week out with negativity. So duck and keep walking.Shalom,
Pat Garcia
The Seventy-Nine-Words Story Challenge
Hello Everyone,
I don’t know when it happen, but I remember reading the MONDAY FUNNIES, one morning and bursting out with laughter. I was hooked on the funnies. Laughter is not typical for me before eleven a.m. If you ask the people very close to me, they will tell you, Pat is usually unapproachable before eleven.
Honestly, as a writer, I find myself experiencing highs and lows. It’s a writer madness that takes hold and motivates me to write what I see as I write about the world I live in during the early morning hours.
Thus, Chris Graham’s, CHRIS THE STORY READING APE’S BLOG has become a necessity in my life. It touches the humor within me, and laughter comes bubbling out.
Recently, Andrew Joyce, an author, sent out a dare, a seventy-nine-words dare to writers and it has been running on Chris’s blog as the Seventy-Nine-Words Story Challenge. Each week, stories are chosen as the best submitted. This week, one of my stories from The Child and The Prophet (a W.I.P.) was among the ones chosen and to be very honest with you that makes me happy.
To read my story and the stories of the other participants, please go to the link below. It’s only 79 words, and drop a line on Chris’s blog and let him know you were there and me too, of course.
http://thestoryreadingapeblog.com/2015/10/18/more-new-79-words-story-challenge-entrants/
Shalom,
Pat Garcia
Shalom,
Pat Garcia
Its, A Mother’s Day Poem
Mouths starved.
Necks choked.
Shoulders bruised.
Torsos kicked.
These its,
These puny its have no voices.
Viewpoint: A Commentary on Christmas
patgarcia ♦ December 22, 2015 ♦ 10 Comments
The woman was heavy laden with child, and her husband looked at her with concern. Of course, he had to go. The census was mandatory. As he regarded his wife, he knew the journey would not be easy.
What is a few hundred miles or kilometers today? Catch a train to Hamburg from Frankfurt, Germany, and you arrive in four and a half hours, a plane ride from Augusta to Atlanta, Georgia is fifty-five minutes. However, this man did not have these comforts. His Mercedes-Benz was a donkey.
He observed his wife as he pondered over the trip ahead. Leaving her behind was not a consideration; in her was the hope of the nations, the salvation of the human race, and a shiver went through him as he thought of what could happen ahead. Thieves and robbers on the route and a desert where the temperature dropped at night were between the two cities, and ninety miles on a donkey was not a one-day ride. He figured he might be able to travel 10 miles a day, but even that would be hard considering that she was heavily pregnant with child.
Today the significance of this event has been revised; the hardship erased. The importance of this Child’s birth has fallen into abnormality.
Soon, it is Christmas.
For me personally, it is the time when I reflect backward to that birth in Bethlehem with Thanksgiving in my heart.
His birth changed History;
His birth changed my life and gave me a vision with purpose;
The Son of God came to earth so that I could have the right to be accepted in the Beloved.
Merry Christmas to you,
Buon Natale a te,
Joyeux Noël à toi,
Frohe Weihnachten zu Ihnen,
Feliz Navidad a usted.
Shalom Aleichem,
Pat Garcia
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